Who says a day in the life of a housewife is dull? They obviously never had toddlers. Today dawned bright and early (thank you Livi), and was going to prove to be interesting--due to a change in routine. For itty bitties, routine is a must. It's like the cheese on the burger. But an occasional mild change can be cause for much excitement and amusement. Today was Ethan's monthly haircut at Wendy's Tree House (a.k.a. the horrid child whisperer). Seriously, if your kids hate to get their hair cut, this woman is a God-sent. While Barrett took Eef to be shorn, I got to stay with Livi to await the exterminator. After finding a Black Widow the size of Moby Dick, I put my foot down and demanded that our yard be sprayed. Luckily the Man of the House agreed, and "Ryan" came to do battle with our spiders. While waiting for him to arrive, Livi decided to explore, and I picked up the living room in a feeble attempt to convince an outsider that no, we don't live in squalor. I noticed the tell-tale puffed cheeks and the rolling of the tongue, so I decided to forage in my daughter's mouth for whatever she decided to dine upon. To my horror, I fished out a dark lump. No way did my daughter just almost eat a turd. While trying to keep my voice in a some-what normal register, I grabbed a wipe and examined it, and yes, I sniffed it. Luckily, no fecal aroma assaulted my nostrils, so I could safely rule out poop. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a dead roly-poly. For an instant, I felt relieved. Yeah! She wasn't eating poop! Then, I thought about it. Ewww....she was eating a dead bug. I really don't know which is worse.
When B and Eef arrived, I saw that Ethan had received a Dr. Pepper slush for being good. I'm all for rewards, but that's like giving crack to a squirrel. Do we really need for him to be that hopped up? Yikes. Oh well. I guess he earned it for not shrieking like a Banshee at the hair-cut place. I swear, any Irishman within a hundred mile radius crosses themselves when Ethan cuts loose.
The rest of the day was fairly normal (well, define normal), and Barrett went to a meeting that night. Now most of you know that Ethan is potty-training (either that or I just love to talk about poop) and that means that he's naked from the waist-down. I sometimes forget that not everyone knows this. Some poor college student came to our door peddling newspapers. Wanting to see what the action was, Eef squeezed past me in all his nudie glory. I'm holding Livi, trying to keep Ethan from escaping when it dawns on me that he isn't wearing pants and this guy is mortified. He looks firmly down at his clipboard and won't look up. When he does, he happened to choose the moment when Eef threw himself on his bottom and spread his legs wide, not only flashing his Kibble and Bits, but giving the guy the "red eye" as well. I mutter a half-hearted "potty-training"excuse and the guy hurriedly says, "Have a nice evening" and practically runs away. Sorry! Oh well. Just another day in my fun house.
When B and Eef arrived, I saw that Ethan had received a Dr. Pepper slush for being good. I'm all for rewards, but that's like giving crack to a squirrel. Do we really need for him to be that hopped up? Yikes. Oh well. I guess he earned it for not shrieking like a Banshee at the hair-cut place. I swear, any Irishman within a hundred mile radius crosses themselves when Ethan cuts loose.
The rest of the day was fairly normal (well, define normal), and Barrett went to a meeting that night. Now most of you know that Ethan is potty-training (either that or I just love to talk about poop) and that means that he's naked from the waist-down. I sometimes forget that not everyone knows this. Some poor college student came to our door peddling newspapers. Wanting to see what the action was, Eef squeezed past me in all his nudie glory. I'm holding Livi, trying to keep Ethan from escaping when it dawns on me that he isn't wearing pants and this guy is mortified. He looks firmly down at his clipboard and won't look up. When he does, he happened to choose the moment when Eef threw himself on his bottom and spread his legs wide, not only flashing his Kibble and Bits, but giving the guy the "red eye" as well. I mutter a half-hearted "potty-training"excuse and the guy hurriedly says, "Have a nice evening" and practically runs away. Sorry! Oh well. Just another day in my fun house.
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